


coffee and cherry pie

by literatiruinedme



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Murder Mystery, Twin Peaks References, for now it's a one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literatiruinedme/pseuds/literatiruinedme
Summary: He set his coffee down, scanning the empty diner before his gaze fell back on her. “There's been a murder.”Betty was shocked to finally hear his voice. The sound was warm like nothing she’d ever heard before. She took a breath, forcing herself to ignore the shiver that ran up her spine. She nodded her head. “I'm aware.”He tilted his head to one side. “Oh?”She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a small town.”He hummed in acknowledgement, nodding his head. "You wouldn't happen to know who did it, would you?”She smirked. “Not that small.”a sort of twin peaks inspired au





	coffee and cherry pie

**Author's Note:**

> and the [mood board](https://imgur.com/mZ4MumV)

The bell over the door of Pop’s diner rang as a man entered.

_The reporter._

She had seen him in town, poking around at the sheriff’s station, the grocery store, outside her shop- he was _everywhere_.

It didn’t help that any time Betty saw him, she couldn’t _stop_ looking at him. She walked into a bench when she walked by him on the opposite side of the street, dropped a small tower of books when he walked by the front window to her shop, she’d even almost knocked over a tower of canned vegetables at the market because she couldn't stop looking at him- him and his heavy black boots, his gray beanie covering his soft-looking black hair.

The worst part was that he _noticed_.

When she walked into a bench on her way to work, he’d offered her a smug smile. She kept her head down the rest of her way.

But he was in Pop’s, biting his lower lip because she kept glancing over. He smiled, looking away when a waitress walked over, leading him to the opposite side of the diner.

He sat facing her.

At first, she forced herself to focus on her food, but she could still feel his eyes on her. When she finally looked up, she noticed he wasn’t even _trying_ to be subtle.

He stared at her from the other end of the diner, smiling at her before popping a fry into his mouth.

A waitress walked over, filling the mug in front of him with coffee. She walked down the aisle before stopping in front of Betty. “More coffee?”

Betty nodded. “Thank you.”

The waitress filled her mug before walking away.

He watched the waitress walk towards him, turning halfway down the room before striding towards the entrance to the kitchen. He met Betty's gaze again, his lips tilting up in a half smile.

He raised his mug.

She studied him for a moment before reaching out to touch the handle of her mug. She trailed her index finger along the handle before finally slipping two fingers through it, raising the mug. She took a sip, maintaining eye contact with him.

He set his coffee down, scanning the empty diner before his gaze fell back on her. “There's been a murder.”

Betty was shocked to finally hear his voice. The sound was warm like nothing she’d ever heard before. She took a breath, forcing herself to ignore the shiver that ran up her spine. She nodded her head. “I'm aware.”

He tilted his head to one side. “Oh?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a small town.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, nodding his head. "You wouldn't happen to know who did it, would you?”

She smirked. “Not that small.”

He chuckled.

“You're not out interrogating people today?” She took another sip of her coffee.

“Today’s Sunday.” He shrugged. “Sunday is always a day of exploration.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He stood, strolling across the dining room, coffee in hand. He stopped next to the empty chair across from her. “May I?”

She tilted her head to one side. “Name first.”

He smiled softly, dimples just peaking out on either side of her mouth. “Jones.”

She quirked a brow when he reached out to touch the chair.

He pulled back, scanning her face before his shoulders sank a little in defeat. “Jughead Jones, the third,” he elaborated.

Betty studied him for a moment longer before she nudged the chair opposite her away from the table with her foot. “Why are you talking to me, Jones?”

“Can't a man talk to a stranger?” Jughead set his coffee down on the table, sitting down in the seat across from her. “In a small town, the locals are everything.”

She chortled, shaking her head as she looked down at her lap.

“I saw you in the window of the book store,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. He was staring at his coffee. If she hadn't just met him she'd say he looked wistful. “I was going to go in, but I've been focused on chasing other leads around this town.”

“That's right.” Betty sighed, shaking her head. “Riverdale has its very own Laura Palmer.”

He nodded once, meeting her gaze again. “Did you know Jason Blossom?”

She scoffed, but a small part of her admired his tenacity. “You think I’d dare say anything on record, Jones?”

“I promise I'm merely making conversation.” He smiled, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Jason Blossom was my sister's fiancé, but they broke things off two months ago.”

He looked taken aback.

She smiled. “You didn't know that, did you?”

He shook his head.

“It was a bit under the radar, I'm not surprised.”

He quirked a brow. “You’re not surprised? I'm very good at my-”

“Where was Jason Blossom last seen?” She interrupted.

He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “His mother claimed to have last seen him going to his room at 9:30 on the night he disappeared.”

Betty shook her head. “Cheryl Blossom watched him climb out his window thirty minutes later.” She sipped her coffee slowly. “He was last seen at the Whyte Worm with one of its regulars at 10:30.”

He blinked, looking down at his coffee.

Betty downed the last of her coffee before standing. “It was nice meeting you.” She gave him a polite smile as she pulled her jacket on and grabbed her purse. “The cherry pie is excellent.”

She walked towards the door. The bell above it jingled when she pulled it open, one foot out in the cool winter air-

“Wait.”

She glanced behind her, one brow raised. “Yes, Jones?”

He worried his lower lip as he gave her a once over. “Help me.”

Betty pursed her lips, turning to face him. The bell over the door rung as she let it fall closed behind her. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you knew information that I uncovered less than an hour ago.”

“So, what?” She laughed. “You want me to use my in with the town to help you crack an exciting story?”

“No.” He looked down at his mug, brushing the pad of his index finger along the white porcelain. He looked up at her with an almost vulnerable look in his eyes. “I want your help because, from what I gather, you're basically Nancy Drew meets the girl with the dragon tattoo.”

She looked down at her feet, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she desperately tried to will away the heat she felt rising over her cheeks. _He’s playing an angle,_ she reminded herself. _He just wants a story._

“You worked on three different newspapers from the time you were in high school up until about three years ago, right?”

Betty straightened. Of course, he came prepared. “I knew you were just being coy.” She turned towards the door once more. “Nice meeting you, Jones. Don't talk to me anymore.”

“Are you really upset with me because I did my research?”

She glanced back at him. “You weren't exactly forthcoming with what you knew and I don't take kindly to being played for a fool.”

He leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. “You looked me up.”

“Did you break into my store?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because stalking and staring is one thing, but breaking into my computer-”

“No,” he interrupted softly. A small smile crossed his lips. “I was just guessing.”

She huffed.

Maybe she walked into that one.

“Suppose I help you.” Betty walked back over to the table. “How would that work, exactly?”

He smiled, pushing her chair out with his foot.

Betty sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she sat down across from him again. “If you keep ignoring my questions then I’m actually leaving.”

“I promise I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

“You’ll answer them _honestly._ ”

He nodded, reaching out to steal a fry off of her plate. “I promise I'll answer your questions honestly and to the best of my ability,” he amended, offering her a smile. “I just ask for the same in return.”

She watched him intently as if she could determine whether or not he was trustworthy just by looking at him. “Fine.”

He perked up. “Really?”

Their waitress rounded the corner, coffee pot in hand.

Betty nodded. “But I do the talking and you back off when I tell you to, got it?”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I have one condition.”

Betty’s brows furrowed. “What’s that?”

“Coffee?” The waitress asked. Betty and Jughead both nodded, holding out their mugs.

Jughead waited until the waitress disappeared into the kitchen again before leaning closer. “We come here to discuss the case over cherry pie.”

Betty blinked, taken aback by just how blue his eyes were. “What if you don’t like it?”

He smiled. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that it’s excellent.”


End file.
